


The Moonlight All Nite Diner

by SlipKnitPass



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Evan has almost died so many times, Gen, he basically has a seat reserved in purgatory, so he can wait comfortably while the team saves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipKnitPass/pseuds/SlipKnitPass
Summary: It's Evan Buckley's first brush with death. He's not sure what he expected, but it probably isn't this.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	The Moonlight All Nite Diner

**Author's Note:**

> This is just...one of those things that settled in my brain and wouldn't leave. So, you know, hopefully it entertains you a little! Also, sorry (not sorry) for the gratuitous 'Welcome to Night Vale' and 'Princess Bride' references...

Buck isn’t sure _where_ he heard it, but he remembers hearing that everyone you see in your dreams is someone you’ve seen in real life. That the brain can’t make up faces.

And yet, somehow, he’s absolutely certain that he’s never seen the waitress serving him coffee in this diner. He’s also certain that he’s not awake, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t asleep.

“You’re unconscious,” the waitress says casually as she pours him a cup of coffee. Her accent is pure Southern belle, unusual for LA.

“I’m sorry, I’m what?” Buck replies incredulously, bringing the mug to his lips. He looks down at the mug briefly and startles, sloshing hot coffee over his hand. He curses as he sets it down and dries off; for a minute, the cup looked like it was filled with...well, blood.

“Sorry, that happens sometimes here.” The waitress is still standing next to him, but the coffee urn is gone. “You’re unconscious. Like, near death experience unconscious.”

Buck pushes his coffee aside and takes a minute to look around. The diner is empty, but he can feel the emptiness like a physical presence, settling on him like a weighted blanket: it's not uncomfortable, but he’s acutely aware of it. 

The floor is covered in slate gray tile and the walls are a dusty color somewhere between royal blue and navy. One entire wall has gold stars and a crescent moon stenciled on it around the name ‘Moonlight All Nite Diner.’ There’s a counter lined with stools directly opposite him, to his right. The booths, including his, are pressed up to a wall of windows. Buck turns his head to look outside, but finds he can’t focus on any one thing. The world outside is a smear of swirling grey, not unlike looking out a window during a hurricane.

“Is this purgatory?” he asks suddenly. 

“Hmm, tough to say. I don’t like to worry about things like names, anyway,” she muses in reply, leaning her hip on the table. 

“It’s gotta be purgatory or, like, limbo, right? I mean, your name is literally ‘Chance.’” He gestures at the nametag on her apron. “That seems like a pretty clear sign!” Buck can hear the hysterical edge creeping into his own voice.

“Well, it’s dangerous to go around giving your real name to people, Evan Buckley,” she tells him archly, eyebrow raised.

“I thought you didn’t worry about names?” Buck retorts. (Somehow, it doesn’t strike him as concerning or odd that she knows his name.) The waitress just rolls her eyes and flounces off towards the kitchen. Strangely, he feels the urge to call her back, to avoid being alone in this weird, empty space.

He’s rubbing idly at an aching spot on the left side of his chest when Chance comes back, this time with a milkshake and a slice of pie. She slides them onto the table in front of him and moves his coffee cup to the other side.

“Leave that alone,” she chides, batting at his hand rubbing his chest. “You didn’t seem to want your coffee,” she continues, sliding into the booth, “so I brought you something else.”

“I just want to know why I’m here,” Buck sighs, suddenly exhausted.

“Oof, that’s a loaded question, sweetie. Why do  _ you _ think you’re here?”

“Well, I guess I’m...dying? Or already dead?”

“Mm, only mostly dead. If you were all dead, there’d be only one thing to do-”

“Let me guess, go through my pockets and look for loose change,” Buck finishes sarcastically. She beams at him proudly and Buck looks down and blushes a little. She’s cute, after all.

He swirls the straw around in his milkshake, using the motion to delay answering. He sips it half-heartedly as he considers her initial question. If he thinks about it logically, it seems like the only reason for him to be here rather than dead is that he has unfinished business, but the idea strikes him as absurd.

“Look, it’s not like I’m irreplaceable. Like, I do my best, but there’s an entire academy of trainees who can take my place and probably do it better. And, you know, the 118, I know they love me, but I can be…a lot to handle. Maybe...maybe they’ll be sad for a little while, but I’ve kind of always felt that maybe I loved them more than they love me. Or that I needed them more?”

“Oh, Evan,” Chance breathes, putting a hand on his where he’s still fidgeting with the straw. 

It’s been so long since someone called him Evan in that tone. The tone that said “I see that you’re hurting and I’m sorry.” He thinks that maybe Maddie was the last person to speak to him with that much compassion. It’s not that his family at the 118 don’t love him, but they see the Evan Buckley that he wants them to see, breezy and carefree. Chance seems to see the Evan Buckley that he keeps hidden away and it makes his eyes well up.

“Evan, you are so loved. Your family is not just putting up with you or loving you in spite of who you are. They love you  _ because of _ the things that make you their Buck. And baby, you have so much good left to do in the world. There are so, so many people who would be affected by your choice if you don’t go back; people you haven’t even met yet,” Chance tells him gently, hand still on his, rubbing circles onto the back of it. “Your death would be a great loss.”

“So I have to go back?” Evan asks her, expression open and vulnerable, eyes still wet. There’s a fine tremor running through his body and his breathing is shallow.

“It is  _ always  _ your choice, Evan. You can go back or you can move on; no one can make that decision for you.”

“Can’t I stay here? I like it here. The milkshakes are pretty good,” he tells her with his most charming smile.

“As much as I would love the company, people can’t stay at the Moonlight All Nite Diner forever. You have to choose. And soon.”

He’s suddenly aware that the spot on his chest that was aching earlier has started to hurt in earnest, accompanied by a pain along his ribs on the right.

“I don’t think...I’m not ready to move on. I have to go back, I think maybe I actually  _ want  _ to go back.”

Chance smiles at him like he’s just correctly answered a difficult math problem. She stands up, holding out a hand and pulling him out of the booth as well.

“Well, Evan Buckley, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Can I give you a hug?” Chance looks surprised at his question, but she opens her arms and Evan steps in close to her, resting the side of his face on the top of her head. “Are you an angel?” he asks suddenly.

“Oh, no. If I were, I’d be called Erika. With a ‘k,’” Chance replies, to his utter confusion. “Goodbye, Evan Buck-”

“BUCK!”

Suddenly, it’s Bobby’s voice he’s hearing, not Chance’s. Instead of her reassuring words and gentle tone, he hears Bobby yelling at him for being a crazy, reckless dumbass, and instead of a hug, he feels Bobby’s hands resting on the center of his chest, where he’s likely been performing CPR on Buck.

“Mmhmm, love you too, Bobby,” Buck slurs, looking up at him with a dopey smile. Bobby’s anger fades in the face of that sweet expression and he gives Buck’s hand a squeeze as they load him into the ambulance.


End file.
